It's all my fault!
by Kirsti-Lee
Summary: Another angsty HarrySnape hurt comfort story. Most likely slash. Read at your own risk.
1. Default Chapter

He couldn't take it anymore. He hated himself, and he hated his life. Sirius was decidedly gone; Harry had accepted that. But he couldn't, try as he might, shake the feelings that it was his fault. He was responsible for his Godfather's death, because he hadn't bothered with the occlumency lessons. It was him who let his foolish pride and damned curiosity get the better of him, and it was he who had looked in the pensieve. For all of his assurances to himself that at the time that he'd had a right to look, it didn't compensate for the fact that Sirius was gone. His raving mind was brought back to earth when he heard his Uncle's voice suddenly cut the silence.  
"Those freaks have no right to threaten me," he was mumbling, over and over.  
After a time, they reached the house. Petunia and Dudley hurriedly slipped in, fearing the neighbours may hear Uncle Vernon's outbursts. Harry was trying to lift his heavy trunk from the boot of the car when he felt a beefy hand grab the back of his neck. He hissed, and his trunk fell and smashed onto his foot, causing him to give a muffled shriek. Muffled, that is, by his Uncle's sweaty hand being shoved over his face, before he was pulled forcefully into the house.

Before Harry could protest, he was stripped of his wand and thrown to the floor. He felt a foot crash into his side, and he let out another muffled cry. The torrent of kicks seemed endless; Harry could feel his ribs snapping, and eventually, blood gushing down his stomach and chest. He felt himself being dragged, by the collar of his shirt, up the stairs. Each time one connected with his broken ribs he groaned, only to be silenced when Uncle Vernon slammed him down harder onto the ground. He was thrown unceremoniously into his room.  
"There now, you'll write to your freaky little friends, and tell them what a great start to the summer you're having, got it?" growled uncle Vernon.  
Harry nodded numbly, before picking up a discarded quill and parchment. Slowly and carefully, he somehow managed to write his letter;

To the old crowd,  
Hope this reaches you! It's Harry (of course!) and I just wanted to send you this letter to thank you for what you said at the Train station, I'm sure the Dursleys will treat me heaps better now! In fact, they already are!  
Hope to see you soon,  
Love,  
Harry.

He felt the letter slip from his hands, and he watched his Uncle's piggy eyes as they showed satisfaction at his seemingly cheerful demeanour. He handed it back to Harry, as Dudley entered the room, lugging Hedwig's cage with him. Harry swiftly unlocked the cage and tied the letter to her leg, before Uncle Vernon opened the window and allowed the owl to swoop past him. He turned back to Harry and delivered a final kick to the stomach, before walking out of the room, Dudley close behind. Harry heard the locks on his door being activated. He felt the two whales of men walk away, before he finally allowing tears to fall down his face.

He heard the locks on his door being opened as he lay on his bed that night. Surely Uncle Vernon had gone to bed already? The door creaked open, to reveal the bulky frame of his cousin.  
"Dudley?" he whispered stupidly.  
Dudley walked the length of his room, and jumped onto Harry's bed, causing it to almost collapse under his weight.  
"Dudley…wh..." his words were cut off when, for the second time that day, a heavy hand was placed none too gently over his mouth. He gasped in surprise as he felt a hand start prying to open his loose jeans. He began to struggle, but gave up after feeling immense pain in his ribs. He felt his jeans being pulled down, and his underwear soon following them. He felt Dudley fumble with is own pants, and then extreme pain as he was penetrated. He tried to scream but his cousin just dugs his nails into Harry's cheek and he stopped. He just let his cousin do it, as he dully tried to remember what it was like to be loved. Dudley suddenly spilled his seed with a massive grunt. Harry, who had been staring blankly at the light coming in through the door, realised that suddenly it was back in shadow. His Uncle entered the room, holding a belt in one hand. He flicked on the light switch, and grinned maniacally when he saw his son on top of Harry.  
"Move aside, my boy," he grunted proudly. "It's my turn,"

Harry ached all over. His ribs were all snapped and pointing inward, leaving the area around them a greenish tinge. His stomach, back and thighs all bore the brunt of his Uncle's previous beating. He hadn't eaten in days; his body was unable to keep anything down. His torture had become nightly, with both men slackening their lust on his poor defenceless shell. He had tried to get them to stop, tried to unleash the anger and make it form into some sort of magical defence, but it was useless. He didn't truly want to live, and some part of him craved the belts and the fists, as if they were punishing him for his slackness that had killed Sirius. A final blow had hit Harry when he received his first and only letter of the holidays. It read;

Dear Harry,  
We are at you-know-where, but I am afraid that you cannot join us this summer. The old crowd has asked us to thank you for all your letters ensuring you are ok, but we cannot send anything back, it is just too dangerous. McGonagall has told us you will receive your OWL results when you arrive back at school. Moony sends his love.  
H. & R.

Harry glanced up as he felt the letter being torn from his grasp. His Uncle's eyes skimmed it quickly, before throwing to the floor, and laughing. He threw parchment and a quill at Harry, ordering him to write a cheery reply.

Night after night, he felt the pain over and over again. Every time, they found new and creative ways to make him feel pain. Sometimes, it wasn't just physical pain. They had gone through his trunk, and found the Photo album Hagrid had given him in his first year. They forced Harry's eyes open, and made him watch as, one by one, the pictures of his mother and father burned. His body was now just a battlefield of scars, fresh wounds seeping blood, were littered over his thin frame. Most of the cuts were pus-filled, because he couldn't even clean himself up. He couldn't even move from his own bed to go to the toilet, and his hands shook so much it was hard to write his letter once every three days. He made up happy stories of playing Dudley's computer, and of eating dinner with the rest of the family. It was just so easy now, to write all these lies under the scrutiny of Uncle Vernon. He didn't even have to think they weren't true anymore. He still thought he deserved to be treated the way he was, and he didn't want the Order to know what he was going through.

"Albus, I don't think the boy's fine! He's just lost that flea-bitten excuse of a godfather, how can you tell he's not going to do anything stupid?" shrieked Severus Snape.  
Albus folded his hands and rested his head on them.  
"If you are so worried, Severus, then you may check up on Harry. I assure you however, that he is still alive, and the wards on his house haven't changed in the slightest," he coughed out, in his usual hoarse self.  
Severus scowled darkly, and swept from the headmaster's room. He kept walking until he crossed the boundary between Hogwarts and the forest. Taking a deep breath, he disapparated.

Severus did not even spare a glance for the muggle surroundings he had apparated into. With his usual confident manner, he strode up to the door of Number 4, Privet drive. An unusually large man opened the door. Vernon Dursley's colour drained from his face when he saw the long robed, sallow skinned and long haired Potions Master.  
"What do you want?" he squeaked.  
"Potter, where is the boy?" snarled Severus peering into the muggle's house.  
Dursley paled even more.  
"You…s…said that h…he only had to w…write," he stuttered fearfully.  
"This is a social call," replied Snape, barging into the house.  
A horse-faced woman pointed up the stairs, shaking. Severus swept up the stairs, his robes doing their usual billowing. He happened upon a room, bearing several muggle locks. Perplexed, he opened all of them using magic. What he saw in the room wasn't what he'd expected.

Harry wasn't as well as he'd said in his letters to the Order. He was lying, tied to the bed, almost completely lifeless. Snape walked hesitatingly over the carpet, and he looked down when he felt his shoes sticking to it. Horrified, he almost stumbled back. He was standing in blood, and heavier things besides. He gagged, and brought a hand to his mouth. Harry turned his head, as it lolled back in thin air. He started whimpering and trying to move away.  
"No…no…' he whimpered. "Please….Uncle Vernon," came his pleading voice.  
Decisively, Snape cut the bonds keeping Harry tied to the bed. As Harry struggled, Severus quietly put a sleeping charm upon the terrified boy. He clutched Harry to his chest, and walked sedately down the Dursley's sweeping staircase. He glared at the quivering form of Harry's relatives.  
"I'll be back to deal with you," he said, before leaving the house and disapparating in the street.  
Petunia broke down to sobs, when she realised the extent of what her family had done.

Snape cradled Harry softly against his chest, as he apparated outside of the Hospital Wing. Calling swiftly for Pomfrey, he laid Harry down on the nearest bed, gently surveying the damage. He hadn't expected to find Harry like this. He had, like everyone else in the Order, heard Harry's letters and merely thought that he sounded too cheerful, and was worried Harry might have turned suicidal. He wasn't very far off the mark however, and he'd had a right to be worried after the state he'd found Harry in.  
"Severus? What's the matter….oh my!" Gasped Madam Pomfrey, rushing to his side.  
The doors banged open, and the Headmaster ran in.  
"Severus! You have taken Harry from his relative's care!" he shouted hoarsely, as he spotted him. Dumbledore looked murderous.  
"It's a good thing he did," muttered Pomfrey, as she anxiously peered at his cuts.  
Dumbledore stopped short, and his eyes fell on Harry's limp form.  
Severus didn't say a word; he just left the room, and closed the doors quietly behind him.

When he reached his dungeon Office, Snape quickly shut and locked the door behind him. He cast a blocking spell to keep Albus from communicating with him from the fire. That done, Severus collapsed against the wall, head in hands, sobbing quietly.

Dumbledore stared disbelievingly at the thin boy in front of him. Gingerly, he took hold of the boy's clammy hand, and he started to rub in gently for reassurance, only to feel the bones underneath his fingers slid out of place. He gasped and quickly dropped the hand. Pomfrey dabbled about behind him, ashen faced and lips tight with worry. She started pulling potions from the shelves, but Dumbledore couldn't stand to watch as she sadly poured some in Harry's mouth, and he thrashed and jerked as the potions attempted to mend his broken body.

He did try and call Severus through his fire, but, as he suspected, Severus had it charmed against him. Sighing, he walked slowly down to the Potion Master's office, and knocked quietly.

Severus heard the slight rap on the door, and he quickly picked himself off the floor, and dusted himself down. He opened the door, and unwillingly let the Headmaster inside.  
"Severus, I…" Severus, who could contain himself no longer, drowned Dumbledore's words out.  
"YOU WHAT? YOU WANT TO APOLOGISE, FOR SENDING HIM TO THAT HELLHOLE? YOU WANT TO CLAIM YOU DIDN'T KNOW? WELL, THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH! HE WOULD BE DEAD! DEAD! HOW WOULD YOU EXPLAIN THAT MISTAKE TO THE WIZARDING WORLD? IT WAS EASY ENOUGH WITH MINE, YOU COULD KEEP IT A SECRET, AND EVEN IF PEOPLE KNEW THEY WOULDN'T HAVE CARED…" he let out every dark thought he'd had of the Headmaster since he'd seen Harry's near-dead body.  
Albus quaked under Severus' anger, and for once, said nothing as he left the room. Severus gently rubbed his temple, before making up his mind and walking out after him.

By the time he got back to the hospital wing, a now scarred body had replaced Harry's bloody one. Pinkish gashes of new skin had appeared over the worst infected, as Pomfrey wearily waved her wand over the last few. Severus watched as his ribs gave a wet pop and slid into reasonably normal positions. Harry thrashed in pain, and gasped. His silky green eyes flashed open, as Pomfrey finished the last of her healing. At a glance from Severus, she left the room.  
"Potter?" he said nervously.  
Harry jerked his head and caught sight of him.  
"Pro…Professor?" he whispered disbelievingly.  
Severus nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he looked at the distraught boy.  
"How…?" asked Harry, as he watched his teacher. Suddenly it dawned on him.  
"You...You found me!" he gasped at Severus.  
Severus nodded mutely. Harry's eyes became downcast and he looked over his young body with horror. Tears began coursing down his cheeks, and uncontrollable sobs were racked from his body. Instinctively, Severus moved to comfort Harry, but Harry almost screamed. He started whimpering again.  
"No...no…no!" he moaned covering his face.  
Severus caught hold of his hands, and pulled him to his chest. Harry sobbed weakly, and found himself clutching at his former nemesis for support. Through his hot tears, he felt a soft hand stroke his wavy hair, and under this supposedly comforting gesture, broke down even worse. He didn't hear the hospital wing's door open.

Albus entered, and took in the odd scene in front of him. Harry Potter, crying into the robes of Severus Snape. And Severus it seemed, was making no move to stop him. Dumbledore coughed, making his presence known. They both looked up, but neither moved from the other. He met Severus defiant glare, and Harry's dumbfounded glance.  
"Harry…I'm sorry," was all he managed before he fled the room again.

Harry turned his tear-streaked face up to met Severus'.  
"Why is he sorry?" He asked, confused.  
'Severus felt the lump in his throat tighten further.  
"He is sorry that he sent you back there," he whispered, struggling to control his emotions.  
Harry looked quietly shocked.


	2. Chapter 2

Sighing, Severus shifted around on the hard infirmatory chair. His eyes drooped as he watched the young boy sleep, seemingly peaceful dreams. Poppy had finally taken leave, but reluctantly so. Severus had assured her that he knew what he was doing, and things would be fine until she returned. With these thoughts, Severus dropped off to sleep. He hadn't sleep long however, when he was awoken.

Thrashing and shrieking, Harry tried desperately to fight off invisible enemies. With a final yelp, this one of pain, he bolted forwards, breathing laboured. He fumbled instantly for his glasses, before pulling them on with great difficulty, owing to how much he was shaking. He felt a warm hand on his own, and he whimpered subconsciously.  
"Potter?" mumbled a voice as the lamp flared next to the bed. Severus Snape's face emerged from the darkness. Harry hissed and jerked backwards, trying to pull Snape's hand off his own. Severus removed it willingly, but stared at him with something akin to worry on his face. Harry glanced down at his bed covers, still shaking profusely. He couldn't bring himself to look back at his teacher. Severus sighed again, before standing and gently pushing Harry down, back onto the bed. This simple gesture caused Harry to start whimpering again, and hot tears burned in his eyes. Snape gently pulled his glasses off, before he resumed his post by Harry's bed. Harry felt the tears fall down his face, only to have a gentle hand wipe them away, Harry still trembling under the touch.   
"Sleep, Potter. Face your demons in the light of the day, where others who care, can assist you," came Snape's voice in a tone Harry had never expected to hear.  
"Will you help?" croaked Harry just before he felt exhaustion break over him. He closed his eyes, asleep the second they closed. Painfully, Severus leant down next to him and whispered.  
"Yes,"

The day dawned bright and the sky looked as if it had just come back from the drycleaners, yesterday's clouds gone as easily as yesterday's stains. But Harry saw none of it. Miserably, he stared at the ceiling. His body ached from all its recent healing, but it wasn't his body that was damaged beyond repair. It was his mind; again and again he cruelly witnessed every bad event that had ever happened to him. He watched Cedric die again and again, saw Sirius body arch gracefully to his doom. He remembered his childhood of always being hungry, of lying to people who saw the bruises and the blood. And now he'd been found out. Snape had seen him at his moment of ultimate weakness; he'd seen him receiving the punishment he so justly deserved. Not only had he been seen at his worst, his Potions Master now treated him with pity. Pity he didn't want, because he didn't feel like he deserved it. He wished desperately that his uncle had killed him. That he didn't have to feel such pain anymore, that he could finally be realised from it. He didn't even want to exist anymore.  
"Potter?" came Snape's hesitant voice. Harry turned listlessly to him. Snape stared back for a moment, almost like he was scared of what he saw in Harry's eyes.  
"Perhaps you'd like to get up? If it's not too much of a strain, I wanted you to go for a walk on the grounds. It will stretch out your muscles, so they won't hurt so much," offered Snape.  
The boy mutely nodded, and pulled his curtains around the bed, blocking him from view.

As he stumbled his way around the grounds with Snape, Harry couldn't bring himself to say anything. He was confused at Snape's behaviour; hadn't he hated Harry? Shouldn't he have laughed when he saw him, instead of hugging him? It was very confusing, but Snape didn't seem to want to share his innermost thoughts on the matter now. He walked with his usual determination, until they reached the lake, to Harry's surprise. He reached the exact same spot that Harry had mourned for Sirius last year, before stopping. He sat down, motioning for Harry to do the same.  
"Ha…Potter, I think we need to talk…" started Snape quietly.  
"Please tell me…what your relatives did to you," he said, his voice barely over a whisper. Harry looked ready to bolt, and if his all ready tired muscles had allowed it, he would have. Instead he adopted a blank expression and started tugging resolutely at the grass. Snape inched closer, softly pulling his hands of the ground.  
Harry continued staring at the ground. He knew that if he looked into those compassionate eyes once more, he'd burst into tears again. And this time, surely this time, Snape would laugh and insult him. Snape would stop prying, and leave Harry to try and bear this burden alone.  
He felt his hands being let go, only to have Snape cup his face up and force Harry to met his dark eyes. Harry sobbed, even before he had seen them, and tried desperately to close his eyes, but it was too late. Snape had allowed Harry to see his pity, and Harry fell to pieces under Snape's eyes' spell. He felt the Snape's thumb softly making circles on his cheek, and he unconsciously brought his hand up and covered Snape's, pressing it almost desperately onto his skin. He fell forwards, and Snape caught him before his face could hit the ground, pulling him closer. For the second time in two days, Harry broke down completely on Snape's robes. Hands wound their way up his back, soothing him, trying to pull out his despair, and Harry became lost under them. Finally, he could cry no longer. He shivered wretchedly, finding himself unable to look up again.  
"I won't hurt you Harry," reassured Severus, surprising both himself and Harry.  
"I've been here…I've had to deal with this too. I know how you are feeling," he tried to soothe Harry.  
Harry didn't say anything, just continued looking surprised.  
"Why?" he asked suddenly.  
"Why what?" replied Severus, confused.  
"Why are you comforting me like this? You, of all people. I deserved this to happen to me. It's my fault," stated Harry as if it was the simplest thing in the world.  
"What's your fault?" Severus whispered, not knowing if he wanted to know.  
Harry hesitated.  
"It's my fault that my parents died. It's my fault- I wasn't good enough to deserve them. It's my fault that I'm a wizard, a freak. It's all my fault that Sirius and Cedric died," Harry suddenly blurted out, saying it in a rush like the very words burned him.  
"No, Harry, no…" tried Snape. "It's not your fault!"  
Harry turned his tear stained face back to Severus'. His eyes finally met his Potions Master's, who gasped at the sight. Harry put all his depression into this one, long stare, hollow eyes boring into him. Eyes that would kill, but not others. Eyes that would kill…their owner.

"Please Harry, don't do anything rash," begged Snape desperately. Harry stared back hauntingly.  
"I won't," he promised blandly.  
Severus bit his bottom lip, afraid that he might somehow spark Harry off.  
"Juh…just know Potter, that there's people who do still care about you. People who want to see you happy and well again," whispered Snape, almost nervously.  
Potter smiled bitterly through his tear stained mask.  
"I was never well," he hissed, painfully pulling himself off the ground, and, in as best a manner as he could manage, he stalked right back up to the castle.

Severus stared after him. He knew what is what like to be tortured as Harry had. His own father, Artimus Snape had been an expert at causing pain. Even now, years after he'd finally escaped the sadistic man, Severus would wake up covered with sweat from reliving such horrible experiences. He wouldn't wish such things on anybody else. Harry needed to talk about this, someone who could relate. If he didn't receive help, then…Severus didn't want to think about what Harry might do. Shuddering, his pale hands started circling his own wrist, and he stared fixatedly at them. Slowly, he peeled back the black material, and revealed a maze of crisscrossed lines, weaving their deadly patterns over tender flesh. A finger traced them gently, and a solitary tear splashed onto his skin.

A shadow fell over him, and Severus started and hastily pulled down his sleeve, only to have his hand snatched away from him. Potter. Damn that boy!

Harry realised quite soon that he needed Snape to get back into the hospital wing. Only the teachers knew the passwords for all the doors during the holidays, in case of invasion. Sighing, Harry headed back in his direction, only to see his Potions professor staring at his wrist, as Harry neared, walking softly, he couldn't help but notice the jagged scars encircling Snape's wrist. With a gasp, he reached out for his hand.

"What…what did you do?" he gasped, eyes wide as dinner plates. He stared at Snape; he was shaking under his intense gaze. Quickly, he lowered his eyes.  
"Nothing I did not intend," Snape half-shrieked, pulling back his hand and swiftly standing.  
"Come, back to the castle," he ordered, almost running over the grounds in his haste.  
Harry meekly followed, back his eyes never left the back of his proud teacher. For a brief second, he had seen through his defences but now the sullen potions teacher had returned. This truly was a mystery.

He practically dashed from the wing hospital wing after depositing Harry into its care. He reached his rooms quickly, blurting out passwords all over the place to let him through. Severus collapsed onto the floor, shivering, and his eyes closed, hands gripping each other forcefully. He whimpered when he felt a hand gently stroke his hair.

Harry waited a few moments before going after his teacher. He didn't mean to be so curious, but the desire to find out where he'd gotten his scars was overwhelming. Snape led him to a part of the dungeons Harry had never been to before. He watched, awestruck, as Snape fell forwards, crying onto his floor with his door wide open. Hesitantly he moved forward and placed his hand gently onto Snape's head.

"Potter…you shouldn't be here…" croaked out Severus, still staring at the floor.  
"I'm sorry sir," Harry whispered, moving closer.  
"Don't…" protested Severus weakly, before the gentle hands pulled him closer, resting his head on Harry's lap.  
"Don't worry…it's ok…" he comforted quietly.  
Severus sighed and leant against the warm hands, craving human contact.  
It was like this the headmaster discovered them some time later, both asleep, Harry leaning against the wall, and Severus against him. Smiling bitterly, Dumbledore conjured a blanket and covered them both. Both to have suffered so greatly, finding even the merest comfort in each other were something truly special.

For the first time in his many years, Severus awoke without worrying.  
His coal black eyes lingered on the boy who held him tightly, as if he was the final lifeline. Even in sleep, it seemed the world was still on Harry's shoulders; his eyes were ringed with shadows, and his face tight and drawn. Unable to resist, Severus reached up to pull a strand of hair from his young charge's face. Harry cringed back from even this minute touch; sleep being unable to make him flee from his fears entirely. His face contorted, and wearily Harry opened an eye.  
"Professor?" he whispered softly.  
"Don't worry Harry, I'm here," reassured Severus.  
"Good," murmured Harry, pulling him closer.  
Severus made to object, but upon noticing his charge's head droop, gave in and fell asleep once more.

A/N- There! Finally another chapter! Sorry people, I've been so busy lately, but I promise I'll have another chapter out soon, or at least try to. I'm putting all my effort into 'A shadow amongst shadows' at the moment, so read that if you like my work!


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